by BETH KERY
For a few seconds, she just stared down at his lap. His pelvis and upper thighs were much paler than his ridged, flat abdomen. His erection rested against his belly. It too was pale, giving her the impression of vulnerability and rigid strength combined. A weird kind of fascinated euphoria swept through her.
“Laila?” She glanced up at him dazedly. “You’re kind of giving me that uncomplimentary look again.”
It took her a second to understand what he meant. She recalled how he’d said she’d looked terrified of him when she first saw him at the secret lake, and how he’d joked it wasn’t the most complimentary expression a guy could see.
“No,” she said emphatically. “It’s not that at all.” She wrapped her hand around the shaft of his cock to prove her point. A shudder went through both of them at once, as if they were joined. “You’re so beautiful. I never thought I’d say that about a man,” she said, stroking the length of him. The shaft was long, thick and straight. She mapped it with her fingers. When she traced a vein along the surface with her fingertip, he groaned softly. His skin was warm and soft, but he was so hard underneath.
“Jesus, Laila,” he muttered roughly.
She glanced up. He was watching her as she touched him, his face rigid.
“Like this?” she whispered, running her fist up and down the middle of the shaft.
He nodded.
“Show me,” she insisted. “Show me what you like.”
He grimaced slightly but wrapped his hand just above hers. She watched him, fascinated, as he pumped the top of his cock, twisting his fist slightly around the fat cockhead. A moan slipped out of her throat. It was the most exciting thing she’d ever seen, Asher handling himself so knowingly. She began to move her hand on the bottom portion of the shaft, trying to imitate the pace and movement of his bigger hand. He groaned deep in his throat. His obvious pleasure at their mutual efforts emboldened her. Her fingers ran through his pubic hair. She cupped his testicles gently. He groaned again, more roughly this time, his hand moving faster on the shaft.
“Harder. You can do it harder,” he said.
She massaged him more firmly, glancing up to see his reaction. Heat rushed through her when she saw his face. It was the first time she’d ever seen a man firmly in the grip of lust. Of need. It was the first time she’d witnessed Asher that way. It was like spying a whole new world.
“Let me,” she said, her fist once again enclosing the shaft. He gasped and let go, placing both his hands behind him on the towel and bracing himself. She sensed him watching her as she stroked him. It excited her, his tight focus. Her entire arm moved now as she pumped him from tip to balls, her actions bolder now that she’d seen how he pleasured himself.
He felt even bigger in her hand than before, the flesh even more rigid. The tension in his body was palpable. His arm, chest and abdominal muscles flexed tight and hard. His small, brown nipples looked mouthwateringly erect.
“Is this right?” she whispered after a tense moment of jacking him firmly.
“It’s so damn right,” he said, his mouth hard. His eyes seemed alight as he peered at her face. “You’ve never done this before?”
She shook her head, her arm pumping faster.
“It feels so good.” His nostrils flared slightly as he watched her with a feral focus. “You’re going to make me come with that sweet little hand.”
She started to say that was the point, but suddenly he lifted his right hand and caught her at the back of the head. He pulled her to him, seizing her mouth in a blistering kiss. Laila lost herself for a moment, his flavor, his heat and his need surrounding her, penetrating her, until she became one with it.
She concentrated her strokes at the top of the shaft, squeezing extra hard on the defined head. He groaned harshly into her mouth, his body tightening. She continued the brisk stroke, feeling the friction mount, made euphoric sensing the tension in him that surely must break . . .
A great shudder went through him. He broke their kiss roughly. He looked like he was in pain. She paused, unsure of what to do.
“No, Laila,” he grated out. “Keep it up. I’m coming.”
She resumed, staring down at his lap while she feverishly stroked him.
White semen jetted onto his belly. He gasped and tightened again. He ejaculated more on her next stroke.
“Asher?” she asked shakily, uncertain.
“Keep going. Please.”
He hardly needed to say please. She’d never felt so powerful. She watched, enraptured, as each of the firm pumps of her hand made him tense and shudder again in pleasure. Until finally, he sagged back slightly, eyelids clenched tight, some of the tension leaving his rock-hard muscles. His semen now lubricated her strokes. It was everywhere, wetting his belly and pelvis, and even the left side of his ribs. He gleamed with it.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the image he made.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, peering at her from beneath heavy eyelids. Their stares held.
“Wow,” she mouthed.
He blinked, his stare sharpening on her.
“Wow what?” he wondered between pants for air.
She glanced down again at the intensely erotic image he made. “I don’t know. I didn’t know there’d be . . . so much of it.”
She looked up at the sound of his choked laughter. He reached for her, bringing her to his mouth for a hard, hot, swift kiss. When they broke apart, she was breathless. She saw his smile.
“You had something to do with that.” Her heart soared when she saw the warmth in his eyes. “Those hands of yours have talent for more than just the piano.”
Her cheeks were hot—very—from arousal, but she felt them heat even more at that. He released her and leaned back, stretching to reach his backpack. He pulled out another towel and grabbed her hand, drying it. He started to dry himself.
“Let me clean up. Then we’ll see to you,” he said.
Her hips twisted on the towel at that, grinding downward. She frowned, trying desperately to control herself. The fever had spread over every inch of her body. Asher tossed aside the towel and jerked the waistband of his trunks up in a perfunctory gesture. He put out his arms for her.
“Come here,” he said.
She hesitated. His gaze narrowed when she didn’t move. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Laila?”
“It’s just that . . . it’s worse than it was the other night.” She noticed his brows pinch even tighter. “On the beach,” she explained reluctantly.
He closed his eyes briefly and pressed his mouth together in a straight line. She had the distinct impression he was commanding himself not to laugh. He scooted toward her and wrapped his arms around her. Despite her anxiety, she placed her cheek on a hard pectoral muscle. She felt him press his mouth against her temple.
“What do I have to do to convince you?”
“Convince me of what?” she asked, pressing her nose into his chest and smelling his male scent, now richer and headier because of his recent climax.
“The fact that you get that turned on when we’re together isn’t anything to be embarrassed about. It’s fantastic. It’s one of the things that I told you make me feel like a god.”
She lifted her head, looking up at his face. He shook his head suddenly.
“I don’t like it. I don’t like it a bit,” he said.
She blinked when she saw how fierce he appeared.
“What?”
“When you close yourself off. Shut off your gift. Hide who you are.” His mouth slanted. “Try to dim your glory.”
She stared up at him, speechless. He nipped at her opened lips.
“Kiss me like you mean it,” he ordered quietly. “Come to me like you mean it, Laila.”
And she did. What other choice did she have, with his blue eyes gleamin
g down at her, and her body sizzling like a live wire? She wrapped her arm around his neck and sank her fingers into a stony bicep, and she kissed him like he held the last oxygen in the universe in his lungs. When she felt his hand glide down the side of her body and slip beneath the hem of her sarong, she opened her thighs for him. It was like looking straight into the sun, but not caring.
Only wanting to burn.
His long fingers slid beneath her bikini bottoms. She made a choking sound of sharp anticipation. His fingers moved, and she could feel how wet she was, how naked her need. And he was whispering harshly in her ear, telling her how sweet she was. How wet. How desirable. Her entire world narrowed to the feeling of his rubbing finger. A splinter of anxiety penetrated her fever.
“Asher?”
“It’s okay, Laila,” he said, nipping at her lips forcefully. “I’ve never seen you more beautiful than you are right now.”
She opened her eyelids sluggishly and saw his blazing stare. It hit her that he saw her. She was entirely exposed to him in that moment, turned inside out.
And he still thought her beautiful. Special.
She shuddered at the realization, her entire body seizing in a rush of bliss.
Chapter Eleven
Afterward, he laid her back gently on the towel and removed her clothing. Laila was too spent to question him. She was too enthralled by what had just happened and by his somber expression as he drew her bikini briefs down over her legs, and then came down over her. He palmed her sex so gently. Feeling swelled in her at his simple gesture of tender possession. She watched him, panting softly. His touch and his gaze as it toured her naked body sanctified her, somehow. It told her that everything she’d experienced in his arms a moment ago hadn’t been a lie.
Far from it.
Then he kissed her lips. So gently at first, and then with mounting passion. And he touched her again, this time everywhere, until she was burning again in his arms.
She blinked open her eyes after surviving that solemn, piercing fire once again. His hand moved slightly between her legs. A residual tremor of pleasure shook her. The vibrant green canopy of the trees, the pristine blue sky, the sun-infused air, even: all of it looked different. Brighter. The world shimmered with life, just like her flesh did.
Asher was nibbling hungrily at her lips. She dug her fingers into the thick hair at his nape and scraped her nails against his scalp. God, he was so amazing. She wanted him . . . she needed him so much.
What’s happening to me?
He groaned roughly, his hand falling away from her sex. He pushed himself into a sitting position beside her. She watched the in-and-out movement of his lean torso as he panted.
“I think I better take a swim to cool off,” he said after a pause. He started to stand, and she realized the stiff movements of his body indicated renewed arousal. He’d brought her so much pleasure, made her lose herself not once, but twice. Now he was hurting again. She stopped him by grasping his wrist.
“No. Let me—”
“No,” he said. He gave her an apologetic glance for his harshness. “You look like you’ve been put through the wringer. Rest a few seconds. I’ll be right back.”
She propped herself up on her elbow, watching as he plowed into the shallow water and then plunged into the lake, arms outstretched. He sliced through the water, his stroke powerful. Almost aggressive. By the time he’d reached the center of the lake, she’d gotten up and had put her bikini back on. She sat on the towel, her arms wrapped around her knees, waiting for him as he swam back to shore.
He sat down next to her on the beach towel, water dripping off his large body. He still breathed heavily, this time from the exercise instead of arousal. When he didn’t speak, she grew uncertain. She touched his shoulder. He turned to her, and she saw the glint in his eyes. He’d banked the fire in him, but it was still there . . . waiting. Ready to leap up at any given moment. She brushed her lips softly against his damp, firm ones.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She was thanking him for so many things. The pleasure. The sweetness. The glimpse of freedom.
“Thank you.” She had the impression he was thanking her for his own reasons, and they were every bit as somber and amazing as hers had been.
They smiled at once, and their mouths met. A time would come, very soon, when she’d have to exist without his taste, Laila realized dazedly. He palmed the back of her head and tilted his face, deepening their kiss. She’d have to live without his hunger. She loved how demanding his kiss could be. How she lost herself in him. How she became somebody different.
Asher reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“I want to be friends, Laila. Someday, maybe we can be more. I’d like that.”
She started slightly. The memory of Ben Khairi saying those words last night had leapt into her mind, unbidden. Ben had asked her to walk on the beach last night, and since he was their guest, she’d felt obligated to go. Despite her reluctance, they’d walked far enough to be out of sight of the cottages, and their mothers’ gazes. He’d grasped her hand when he’d said those words. The feeling of Asher doing the same had made the uncomfortable memory spring into her consciousness.
Asher pressed his mouth to the back of her hand. She saw his puzzled glance. She realized he’d felt her start at the memory of Ben.
“You okay?” he asked.
“So good,” she insisted hoarsely. “It was amazing. All of it.”
“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, studying her. “So what’s wrong?”
She grimaced. He seemed to see straight through her. “It’s nothing. It’s just . . . my mother went and did something stupid last night, that’s all. Sometimes she drives me crazy.”
“What do you mean?” Asher asked, his brow creasing.
“There’s this guy. Ben Khairi. He’s the son of one of my mother’s friends in Detroit. Our mothers have been plotting to push us together forever. He just graduated from Western Michigan, and he has a new job in Grand Rapids. He’s an accountant there. Since Crescent Bay isn’t too far from Grand Rapids, my mom arranged for him and his mother to come to dinner last night,” she said in a rush before she could stop herself.
“So that was why you couldn’t here come yesterday. Ben,” Asher said in a flat tone. He still held her hand, but his body had gone stiff next to hers. “He’s Moroccan, I assume?”
She nodded, finding it difficult to meet his stare.
“I thought you said your parents hadn’t arranged for you to be with anyone.”
“They haven’t! Don’t you think I’d know if I was arranged to marry someone? I swear, Asher, this wasn’t about that. It was just my mother and his mom plotting for us to get to know each other, maybe date. She sprang it on me out of nowhere. I didn’t want to have dinner with them.”
He didn’t speak for a few seconds. “Do you think she knows?”
Her head swung around. “My mother? About us?” she asked disbelievingly.
He stared out at the lake, his jaw tense. “Maybe not any details. But maybe she’s catching a hint of what’s going on with you, senses you pulling away from the fold a little, and is making moves to put a stop to it.”
The idea startled her. “No,” she said after thinking about it for a few seconds. “I don’t think that for a second. She just saw an opportunity, with us being closer to Grand Rapids. I guess her friend—Ben’s mom—had texted that she was visiting Ben in Grand Rapids, and she saw a chance to throw us together.”
“Did he want to see you?”
She made a frustrated sound and backed out of his arms. “What has that got to do with anything?”
“If he’s Moroccan, and your family approves of him, and his family approves of you, and he likes you, I would think it’s got a lot to do with it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, hating the topic, despising the rigid expression on As
her’s face, the hard slant of his mouth. “I told you my parents don’t believe in arranged marriages. I certainly don’t. I don’t like Ben in any romantic sense.”
“Then why are we talking about him?”
“Because I was trying to be honest with you,” she blurted out. “About why I couldn’t come yesterday.”
“Do you feel guilty? About seeing him?”
“What? No, of course not. It was completely out of my control.”
“Nothing is completely out of your control, Laila.”
“You don’t understand. They were guests in our home. Of course I had to be there. And I wasn’t seeing him, Asher. He came to a family dinner. Haven’t you ever had your parents try to get you together with someone they thought would be a good match for you?”
“Only a couple dozen times or so.”
“Well, this is the exact same thing. I told Ben point-blank I only wanted to be friends, nothing else. What do you expect from me?”
“I don’t know. What do you expect from me?” He leaned, reaching for his discarded T-shirt.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think it’s easy for me to hear about the type of guy your parents would approve of, knowing all along I could never match up? That there’s not a damn thing I could do, no degree I could get, no job I could have, no perfect speech I could make to them, nothing that would ever make it okay for me to see you?”
“What they would think about you isn’t important right now, Asher.” He blinked, taken aback by her shout. Her burst of fury flew out of her as quickly as it had come. She pressed her hand near his heart.
“I want to be with you. So much. That’s why I’m here,” she said.
His rocklike expression broke slightly at that.
“This is hard,” he said after a pause.
